It restored warmth to his bones after he came in from his short rest.
And now, at one moment he saw victory before him if he could but live to it; at another, he said to himself, "'Tis but another lull; be on thy guard, Clement."
And this thought agitated his nerves and kept him in continual awe.
He was like a soldier within the enemy's lines.
One night, a beautiful clear frosty night, he came back to his cell, after a short rest. The stars were wonderful. Heaven seemed a thousand times larger as well as brighter than earth, and to look with a thousand eyes instead of one.
"Oh, wonderful," he cried, "that there should be men who do crimes by night; and others scarce less mad, who live for this little world, and not for that great and glorious one, which nightly, to all eyes not blinded by custom, reveals its glowing glories. Thank God I am a hermit."
And in this mood he came to his cell door.
He paused at it; it was closed.
"Why, methought I left it open," said he. "The wind. There is not a breath of wind. What means this?"